


Prologue

by ShadowSelene (Shadowdianne)



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/F
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-04-06
Updated: 2018-04-06
Packaged: 2019-04-19 00:57:48
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 749
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14225634
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Shadowdianne/pseuds/ShadowSelene
Summary: “Regina is at home looking at a new book where the first page is her coronation -I’m guessing that’s the whole ruckus about the finale; I’ve been quite out of OUAT lately so I don’t really know- and the rest are white pages because she now is able to finally write her story. Someone knocks on the door and, as she opens, she sees Emma.Emma tells her “Hi” and after a few moments Regina understands: “How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?”"Asked (or rather let being written by me) by italymystery-swanqueen through twitter





	Prologue

The light of the living room was too bright. The thought intruded Regina’s mind as she ironed invisible wrinkles on her laps, the fabric warm against her slightly clammy hands.

Too dim; her mind countered just as she felt the couch’s texture pliant against her now wandering hands.

Sighing, she moved forward and tilted her head until the too bright (too dim?) lights of the room hit the words written on the book’s cover reflected it, golden accents gleaming once before the color seemed to settle; magic brimming, connecting her to the pen that had been picked and left for far too many times already.

_“Once upon a time.”_

The words made her want to smile slightly, just the ghost of a smirk as she tried, again, to open a book that suddenly felt too heavy for her.

A new story, a new chapter, a new life.

Her thoughts were cut short but a knock on her door and, truth to be told, as she opened the door, Regina could feel a whisper behind her ears; an old memory peeking through her mind, teasing as she felt her fingers tingle, magic crackling inside her skin as she stared at the woman that stood at the other side of the door.

It felt different, she thought, words brimming on her tongue as she stared at the blonde locks, at the way thumbs played with the front belt loops as her chest felt like breaking, pressure building up on her ribcage. It felt different in the way the woman in front of her was almost like the one she had once upon seen next to a boy she called Little Prince. The boy who had hated her and yet had let her walk on his life back again with magic on his eyes and a quill he very rarely tried to use.

It felt strange, Regina thought as neither she or Emma spoke, nighttime air colder than the one she remembered ruffling those blonde locks the moment she had stared at her, potion working, not quite remembering, not quite fearing, as she asked the question that made everything start moving, again. “Are you Henry’s birthmother?”

She could see the memory on Emma’s eyes as well on the way the blonde let out a small breath, chest moving beneath a jumper and a jacket. Almost her but not quite. Almost as young and brass but not enough. The question didn’t stop for long, however, and Regina lowered her eyes to the blonde’s hands once again, noticing the wisp of dirty white magic that crackled just beneath the other woman’s skin, the surface lighting up in volatile whirls. Lines, she discovered herself thinking, she wanted very much to map with her own fingertips.

“Hi.”

The word was short, the sound sounding almost flat, full of doubts Regina could feel haunting them both in an almost question she doubted very much any of them would ever be able to address. Not like it mattered, she added in an afterthought; knowing well that back then she would have fought and screamed, full of pride and cutting in a way she hadn’t been in a while.

What was, her mind whispered to her just the warmth from her living room began to leave her, door still open and night gleaming on the edges of the leaves that half-covered the floor in a reminiscence of the late autumn they had, why Emma was there after all.

Another chapter, her mind added, ink still untouched on the next room, paper still white inside of that same living room they had once been in. Another story.

And so she decided to play along. For Emma. For herself.

“How would you like a glass of the best apple cider you ever tasted?”

She waited for a beat, her heart soaring and then quieting down as Emma smiled the lopsided smile that she had done that one time; slightly less wide, with the beginning of wrinkles around her mouth, with hair not as bouncy, not as long but still, somehow; the Emma she knew. The one who wouldn’t ask a question; not today after all. It was enough of a “I’m back” after all.

“Got anything stronger?”

She took a step backwards, letting her enter silently and closing the door just as she did so.

The moonlight above shone against the three numbers of her door. A chapter on the making perhaps of a different story.

Of their story.

The End


End file.
